Going Solo

I did my first triathlon completely alone. It was a sprint tri in Shelburne, VT. My friend, Mary Duprey told me about it. It's a very "beginner" friendly race. The swim is a rectangular, mostly shore-line swim, in pretty shallow water. This was the main selling point for me. It was 2010, and I'd only been swimming a short time, with very few open water swims of any kind under my belt. I kind of wanted to do it under the radar, without the pressure of expectations from family and friends. I got up very early, caught a 5-something a.m. ferry to Vermont all by myself. Arrived at the site, didn't know a soul there, set up my transition, something I'd never done before, got my wetsuit on, and well, the details aren't really important. I did have some difficulty on the swim, but I survived, and finished in 1:30. As I was bringing my bike and gear back to my car, I started to cry, because I wished someone had been there to share it with me. Little did I know.

At the time of this race, I had been doing cycling races and events for about three years. Bike races aren't very exciting for spectators. They get to see the beginning and the end, and unless the race or event is long enough and the course is accessible by car, they aren't going to see anything else. As a result, I never asked my family or anyone else to come and watch me race. I was always racing or riding with my cycling friends, so I had them with me for support. Triathlon is different. Spectators see you at the beginning, at both transitions, and at the finish. That makes it much more exciting for them, and it's so motivating as a participant to see friendly faces (and hear their encouragement) during the race. I think it was 2011 before my husband first came to one of my races. He's been good about getting more interested and involved in my racing, and my son has even seen me race a few times. And...that's pretty much it. Now, don't get me wrong. I mostly do smaller, local races, and I do about one a month, from February to November, so I don't expect to have a posse at every one. I also understand that people have lives, and jobs, and children. I know it isn't easy. I'm just so wistfully jealous when I see a whole cheering section, complete with t-shirts and signs, thrilled to be at a race cheering on their loved one. I volunteered at Ironman Lake Placid last week for the 6th year in a row, and it always just amazes me how whole families--spouses, children, parents, siblings, friends--not only take the time to travel for the race, but stay on the course all day and half-way into the night to cheer on their Ironman. The whole reason I volunteer is to be on the course for the chance to see someone who is special to me, that I want to support. 

Which brings me to why I'm writing this tonight. I have a triathlon tomorrow. It's a local race, classic distance: half mile swim, 18 mile bike, and four and a half mile run. I'm a little nervous, per usual. I will know most of the other participants. It's a small town, we all travel in the same circles, belong to the same gym, do the same races. But, other than my husband, no one will go to this race for the purpose of watching ME race. Possibly my son, but not my father, none of my eight brothers and sisters (or their spouses or children), none of my co-workers, none of my friends. Very few of them are athletic, and they just don't value what I do. If the topic of my training and racing comes up, the usual comments call into question my sanity, my safety, and their own physical state of disrepair. There is absolutely no interest in the details of the race, how I did, how I train, what's my motivation...And I'm not that guy, poseur-data guy, boring everyone with my racing vitae. I just wish the conversation didn't always go something like this, Them: "Alicia, why are you limping?" Me: "Oh, I did a race yesterday." Them: "That reminds me, why do cyclists ride on the right-hand side of the road? Shouldn't they ride against traffic? Seems like that would be safer." Every year after I work Ironman, I consider maybe racing it someday. If I did, I know I'd be doing it basically on my own. If your family and friends wouldn't go to watch you do an Ironman, they're not going to understand the six months of 15-hour training weeks prior to the race. They don't get what I do, now. And, if no one who is close to you "gets" Ironman, then does it matter? If a tree falls in the forest...? 

Postscript: I DNF'ed the race. A storm was blowing in and there were one to two foot waves on Lake Champlain, coming head-on to shore. I'm just not strong enough to swim in that. I tried, made it almost to the second buoy, and I was just so tired, I had to quit. Couldn't get air, swallowed so much water. No credit for trying, everyone else did fine, except for one girl who didn't even start. My humiliation will be complete when it's in the local paper tomorrow. I left right away, so upset with myself for quitting. I knew it would be tough when I saw the water. I drove down early by myself, and my husband was going to take his motorcycle and get there before the start. I was so nervous about the swim, and I kept looking for him before the start, but he never showed up. The failure is all mine, but having one person there who cares about me would have been nice. I think I should stop dreaming about Ironman and just ride my bike.